


Bumblebee Hairpins (Or: Castiel is Adorable and Alastair is a Big Bag of Dicks)

by BlackDog9314



Series: Castiel Loves Honeybees [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alastair's a dick, Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, Dean Saves The Day, Gen, Good Guy Dean, Hair accessories, Shy Castiel, Student Castiel, Student Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 10:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3377369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackDog9314/pseuds/BlackDog9314
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel wears bumblebee hairpins to school, and not everyone is a fan.<br/>Luckily, Dean Winchester is there to save the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bumblebee Hairpins (Or: Castiel is Adorable and Alastair is a Big Bag of Dicks)

“Hey, freak! Boys don't wear barettes. Or didn't your parents clue you in on that shit?” Alastair's face was set in a cruel sneer, and Castiel felt his feet slide on the slick, clean linoleum floors in the hallway of the high school as he was pushed back into his locker.

Castiel was wearing two small, brass hairpins shaped like little bees, their delicate forms crunching against the locker as his head made contact with it. He winced and moved his hands from where they had been crossed over his chest to cradle his head. The prongs of the pins had dug into his scalp and he hoped he wasn't bleeding.

Alastair took the opening to press his forearm against Castiel's windpipe, making him gasp for breath. He flung his fists at Alastair, but the bully seemed unperturbed by Castiel's punches, his thick leather jacket seemingly offering more protection than Castiel would have guessed. He managed to get a hit on the side of his face, his nails scratching red lines along Alastair's cheekbone.

At this Alastair snarled, moving his arm to touch the now-bleeding scratches marring his sickly-pale skin. Castiel took the opportunity to massage his throat, ducking beneath Alastair and beginning to dart away. He was smaller than the bully and had no interest in sticking around to be hurt some more.

But Alastair made a noise of anger and reached out and grabbed the collar of Castiel's shirt, getting bloody fingerprints on the light blue button-down.

Castiel was whipped around in time to see a fist coming straight towards his face that he knew he did not have time to block. He shut his eyes and inwardly cursed himself for having lingered by his locker for as long as he had that morning. This was mostly his fault, in his estimation.

But the hit did not come, and Castiel felt Alastair's hand being wrenched away from his collar. His eyes flew open and he was incredibly surprised at what he saw.

There, right before his eyes, was the well-liked and universally attractive Dean Winchester, his face a mask of anger as he shoved Alastair roughly aside. The bully lost his footing and ended up falling hard on his ass, his expression one of stunned surprise.

“Winchester?”

“Don't pull this, Al. It's not cool, man. I know we used to be tight and all, but this shit doesn't fly. Leave.” Dean's face was impassive, he left no room for argument. Castiel looked back to Alastair on the floor, who now had a sort of pained look on his face. It was common knowledge in the school that Dean Winchester and Alastair Rooke used to be close friends, and that suddenly they weren't anymore a year or so previous. No one knew why, because neither boy had said anything to anyone on the subject, but there were still awkward moments that occurred when they interacted on campus.

Alastair's eyes flitted between Castiel and Dean, and he shook his head, then, anger returning to his features.

“Fine. Fuck you, Winchester. Defend some faggot, see if I fucking care. Maybe he'll talk to _you_.”

Castiel blushed at that as Alastair hobbled to his feet and stalked away; he hadn't been aware that his shyness and reluctance to talk to people had been so obvious.

Dean turned to him once he had seen that Alastair was truly gone, disappeared into a doorway down the hall. Castiel looked at his hands, mumbling a hurried thank you. He had no idea what to say, or why Dean had defended him.

“You okay, Cas?” Castiel looked up at him, a feeling he couldn't identify blooming in his chest. Besides being incredibly surprised that Dean knew his name, it was jarring that he had called him Cas. Only one other person had given him that nickname, or any for that matter, and that had been his mother--

but Castiel did not want to think of her, and he nodded his head quickly, looking back at his hands again. He expected Dean to take that as the end of the conversation and leave, but instead he felt a light hand on his head, and he jerked his eyes up only to meet Dean's grass-green ones, which were now very close to his.

“What are you--”

“Your head's bleeding, I think your...your bees cut into you.” Dean's voice sounded hurt, and Castiel did not understand why.

“Let's take you to the nurse. I don't know how deep these are.”

“It's fine.” Castiel mumbled. “You don't have to keep helping me. I was the one who wore the fucking things.” His voice trembled and he knew suddenly that he was on the verge of tears, and he wrestled out of Dean's grip and started to walk away.

The fucker followed him.

“That doesn't mean that he had the right to hurt you, and who cares? You should be able to do what you want. Everyone knows you're the mastermind behind the beehive on campus, anyway. You do what you want, and if that's bees and...bee accessories, then screw people who think it's dumb.”

Dean was holding Castiel's forearm gently, now, anchoring him in place beside him in the hallway while Castiel tried not to let the stupid, childish tears fall. He wanted to leave, he wanted to go home and sit in his room with his pictures of his mother in her long night gowns and her dumb little notes about what wonderful creatures bees were and--

That was it, Castiel was crying. They were not dramatic, shaking tears, but they were coursing silently down his cheeks nonetheless. He turned his face away, being unable to shake his arm from Dean's grip, his chapped lips parting as he tried to breathe deeply, to make the tears dry and extricate himself from what was quickly becoming one of the most embarrassing moments of his life.

But he felt Dean's other hand circle around his shoulder and then his back, pulling him into a hug. Castiel stiffened, having no idea what to do, but Dean just held him.

In a few minutes the tears had mercifully stopped and Castiel had relaxed in Dean's hold. Dean released him, then, putting him at arm's length and smiling at him.

“You're okay, Cas. I like bees, too.”

Castiel felt a smile bubbling at the corners of his lips, and instead of fighting it, he let it spread.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is shmoopy and so different from what I normally write, but there was a prompt for it posted in one of my groups and I couldn't resist!! I hope everyone likes it =)


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